


Breathe

by Astronaut_Milky



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Couch Cuddles, Episode Tag, Episode: s18e07 Next Chapter, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronaut_Milky/pseuds/Astronaut_Milky
Summary: Barba's there, in the flesh, in a perfectly tailored suit, with two canvas bags and two coffees in his hands. His eyes are traveling fast over Sonny's body, his face. Maybe it is real. Maybe Sonny is alive.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChameleonCircuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/gifts).



> The request I received was "awkward handholding and accidentally falling asleep on the couch" so I hope I fulfilled that
> 
> Cherie, you bless us always with your fabulous fics and headcanons, and you've always completed my soul, ever since you went traveling and I realised I couldn't handle you being in a different timezone. I truly hope this fic is worthy of being your gift, and I hope it's a good hurt/comfort fic for Next Chapter, aka: your fave type of fic.
> 
> Many thanks to my fabulous beta, tobeconspicuous, you wonderful being.
> 
> Kudos/comments are always appreciated.

_ In through the nose, out through the mouth... _

  
  


_ In through the nose, out through the mouth… _

  
  


_ In through the nose, out through the…  _

  
  


_...out…  _

  
  


_...in through the…  _

  
  


_...out…  _

  
  


_...out…  _

  
  


The air isn't coming, it's stopping just on his tongue, not reaching his lungs. It can't reach his lungs.

  
  


_ In through the nose…  _

  
  


_...come on… _

  
  


_...fucking breath. _

  
  


It's not coming, it's not happening. Sonny is hyper-aware of the feel of the fabric of his couch, under his hands. He's not sure when he started gripping the edge of the couch, or when he hunched over his legs.

The grey carpet beneath his shoes reminds him of metal, the same metal as the taste on his tongue.

He shuts his eyes, relishing in the comfort the darkness provides.

  
  


_ In through the nose, out through the mouth. _

  
  


_ In through… _

  
  


_ In… _

  
  


The air just isn't coming. He hunches further, clawing his fingers around the back of his neck.

“Come on,” he chokes out, clenching his eyes shut further.

A mistake.

Metal.

On his floor, on his tongue, on his forehead.

  
  


_ “Don't do this.” _

  
  


_...in…  _

  
  


_...in…  _

  
  


_ “I’m a cop.” _

  
  


“Don't do this,” he breathes out, shaky, the words louder in his ears than he expected. Too loud.

His eyes open onto that grey carpet again. Gunmetal grey.

He watches as the ground morphs, vibrating, and from the floor he hears it.

  
  


_ “It's too late for that.” _

  
  


Acidic bile claws its way up his throat, and he feel his lips trembling.

“Come on, just breathe,” he whispers.

  
  


_ In through the nose. _

  
  


Three quick knocks on his front door are all it takes. The last is blunt, too loud, too familiar.

  
  


_ “You're okay, you're okay.” _

  
  


_ Not okay.  _

  
  


_ In through the fucking nose. _

  
  


_ Dripping along his cheek, hot. _

  
  


_ Get it off. _

  
  


_ The gun is there. _

  
  


_ Get it away. _

  
  


_ Am I alive? _

  
  


“Carisi?” 

  
  


_ Who is that?  _

  
  


“May I come in?”

It's instantaneous. The world stills and calms ever so slightly, resting in its place.

  
  


_ Barba. _

  
  


It's an age before he peels himself from his curled position. Even just the act of straightening his spine has him feeling just a little more human, more grounded.

He's here.

Every step is filled with hesitation and weighed down with confusion.

By the time he reaches the door, he wonders if Barba might have left. If Barba was ever there. He wonders if perhaps his mind is conjuring up an ideal situation to help him cope. He wonders if he's dead, and this is his heaven, or hell.

The door lets out it's typical creak as he opens it, and he flinches at the sound.

  
  


_ Stairs under his feet, dipping and creaking, giving away his position. _

  
  


Barba's there, in the flesh, in a perfectly tailored suit, with two canvas bags and two coffees in his hands. His eyes are traveling fast over Sonny's body, his face. Maybe it is real. Maybe Sonny is alive.

He doesn't trust his voice to not reveal the constant panic that is pulsing through his veins. However his voice has always been quick to jump ahead of his mind.

“Barba?” It surprises him when the name comes out calm, smooth, almost confident. “What are you doing here?”

The lawyer lifts the bags and coffee in his hands. “I brought a chess board.”

Sonny doesn't even try to fight the laughter that bubbles up from within. Barba is looking at him like that sentence is a good enough explanation, as if this is normal. As if this is their routine, and this isn't the first time he's ever been anywhere near Sonny's apartment.

“Alright,” Sonny replies, still chuckling. He steps aside, letting Barba walk past. The scent of coffee drifts by, under his nose, and he breathes it in, long and deep.

  
  


_ Breathe in… _

  
  


_...and out... _

  
  


He's breathing. It's shaky, like he's trying to learn exactly how to breathe for the first time, but he can feels his lungs inflating and deflating, and it's wonderful. His steps feel lighter as he shuts the door and follows Barba to the couch, following the scent of coffee.

Every sound that Barba makes as he sets up the chess board on Sonny's coffee table, echoes in Sonny's mind. He tries not to flinch, instead he blinks rapidly at every clink of pieces being placed on the board.

“Black or white?” Barba asks once he's finished setting up the game.

“Doesn't matter,” he mutters, leaving the choice up to Rafael. He doesn't want to make decisions tonight.

“I meant the coffee.” 

He turns to face Rafael, who's holding the two takeaway cups and smirking. It's so unbelievably Rafael that for the first time all day, Sonny feels warmth spread through his heart, something like happiness. Maybe it is.

“Oh… black.”

“Good,” Rafael says as he hands over the drink, his smirk remaining as he sips his own.

Sonny huffs out a breath as he brings the drink to his lips. It's almost hilarious that Rafael has brought over coffee at nine o'clock at night, though he'd never expect anything else.

The bitter drink hits his tongue, burning it slightly. Sonny doesn't care. It beats tasting the bile, the metal.

  
  


_ “Don't…” _

  
  


He blinks rapidly, to see Rafael has moved his first piece and is waiting. He's not making a point of pushing Sonny to move his own piece, rather he's just sipping his drink and glancing around the apartment.

Sonny's arm moves of its own accord, reaching forwards, his fingers clasping a pawn. He inches it forwards, the scrape of the piece ringing throughout the apartment.

That's how it goes for a while.

 

Silence.

Scrape.

Silence.

Scrape.

Sip.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Silence.

Scrape.

 

“Yeah.” His voice sounds out of the room, out of this world, but it's somehow too close.

 

Scrape.

 

“Are you sure?” Sonny can feel Rafael's eyes boring into him. It's too much. His breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah. Luckily Liv was there. She's a good cop.” It doesn't sound real, doesn't feel real. Maybe it's not.

 

Scrape.

Sip.

Silence.

 

“Just like you.”

 

It's not there, the air isn't there.

  
  


_ In through the nose… _

  
  


_...in through the nose… _

  
  


_ Come on...  _

  
  


_ Come on, breath. _

  
  


He grits his teeth.

  
  


_ “Just like you...” _

  
  


“Sonny?”

He shakes his head wildly, feeling loose in his neck but tense in his heart, his lungs.

  
  


_ “I'm a cop, just like you…” _

  
  


Sonny clenches his eyes shut, gritting his jaw, begging his body to exist properly, to escape the events of the day.

A hand grabs his arm.

“Are you alright?”

  
  


_ “You're alright.” _

  
  


“No,” he chokes out, sounding wholly unlike himself, shaking the hand away. He can't tell if it's Rafael or Liv who's speaking to him, touching him.

He flings his eyes open to find the source of the touch, but something catches his eye.

 

Grey.

 

On the coffee table, a gun. For a brief moment, a hand is holding the gun.

 

Cole’s hand.

 

In a swift, impulsive movement, Sonny slaps the gun away watching as it clatters away from the hand.

“Sonny.”

  
  


_ Rafael. _

  
  


“Th-the gun,” he stammers, shutting his eyes again, running his hands through his hair. “He nearly-he nearly got me. Cole, he- he could have… he could have…”

“Sonny.” It's Rafael again, so soft. So tender. 

  
  


_ It's not real.  _

  
  


“Sonny, I'm here.”

He's shaking his head again, digging his nails into his thighs, trying to ground himself in the pain, to find some kind of sign that he's here. That he's alive.

It's a touch that pulls him from the darkness.

A hand, fingertips grazing over the top of his own, brushing his knuckles. It rests finally over his hand, coaxing it away from his leg.

He opens his eyes.

 

Long, tanned fingers, linking with his own.

Rafael's hand, completely real, holding his own.

 

Their position is a little uncomfortable, his wrist is at an awkward angle, but Sonny wouldn't change it for the world.

He stares at the connection between them as he centres his breath, the oxygen coming to him easier with each passing second. 

“Is this awkward?” Rafael finally whispers, running his thumb over Sonny's.

“A little.” His voice sounds a little more like himself.

Sonny glances to the side, away from Rafael. He's not ready to know he's being watched.

On the carpet, he spies it. The coffee cup, spilled all over the floor, the black liquid surely already staining.

“I'll clean that,” Rafael mutters, and makes to stand up. Instantly Sonny grips his hand tighter, pulling him back to the couch, back to him.

“Please just… stay.”

He still won't look at Rafael, but he can feel the pity pulsing off the older man. Still, his presence is the only thing reminding Sonny that he's alive right now, and as he closes his eyes, still clinging onto Rafael’s hand, he tells himself that, over and over again.

  
  


_ I'm alive. _

_ I'm alive. _

_ I'm alive. _

  
  


When he opens his eyes again, his neck is the first thing he notices. It's kinked, on an angle. 

Then he notices the overwhelming darkness, almost suffocating. It's the darkness of death, of purgatory. 

His breathing hitches, speeds up, and he almost scrambles to move, to flee, to hide. The urgency in his veins is overwhelming.

“You're alright,” a voice whispers, settling his nerves instantly _.  _ “It's okay, I'm here.”

It's then that Sonny considers what he can feel, what his reality is. Fabric under his head, a chest as his pillow, an unfamiliar heartbeat in his ears.

  
  


_ Rafael... _

  
  


Rafael is under him, running his fingers along his back, soothing his anxiety.

For a minute, they stay in their positions, relishing in the possibility that maybe they don't have to ever leave this moment.

Sonny's mind is racing.

He must have fallen asleep, curled up on top of Rafael.

  
  


_ Rafael... _

  
  


He had shown up at Sonny's apartment, coffee in hand, and full of quiet support.

“Why are you here?” The question slips out as a mumble into Rafael's chest.

The heartbeat under his ear quickens slightly.

“You almost died.”

It's a whisper, and the tears prickle Sonny's eyes instantly. Rafael is right. Sonny nearly died.

And out of all the people in his life, Rafael was the one to come check on him, to be there for him.

Sonny lifts his head, and through the darkness he finds Rafael's twinkling eyes.

“I'm here now,” he reassures himself and Rafael. It's the only warning he gives before he takes a chance, and presses his lips gently to Rafael's.

It's brief, a brush, but it's everything for Sonny. It's the desire he's been harbouring for years, the want. It's the one thing he might have regretted. If Cole had been successful, if Liv had delayed her shot for even one second--

  
  


Rafael pulls away first, clearing his throat as he does.

“I'm sorry, that was… that wasn't right,” Rafael apologises, turning his head away.

Sonny swallows thickly. “It wasn't?”

He searches Rafael's profile for some kind of hint to his thoughts.

“You're probably still in shock. I shouldn't… I shouldn't be taking advantage of that.”

Sonny sighs, the relief calming his concerns swiftly.

“You aren't,” he whispers, cupping Rafael's jaw, bringing his gaze down to face Sonny. The worry is evident, the fear of being a regret. “If I had… if I had died, my one regret would be that I couldn't have at least tried with you.”

It's too gorgeous when Rafael's eyes crinkle, and his lips quirk up into a wonderful smile.

“That’s… something.”

“It is,” he says as he feels his own lips creep up into a very real smile, one he didn't think he would ever experience. Of course it's Rafael that manages to bring him his happiness.

He watches as Rafael's hand runs through his hair, feels as the fingernails stroke his scalp.

“Are you alright?”

Sonny closes his eyes.

“No,” he truthfully replies, leaning into the touch. “But I will be.”

When he opens his eyes once again, finding Rafael's instantly, he loses himself in the stunning green, impossibly bright in the dark room.

When they kiss again, Sonny feels settled, comforted.

He breathes in Rafael's air, and it's so easy.

  
  


_ In through the nose, out through the mouth. _


End file.
